


Fic for All by Fifties

by starshinedown



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - Rowling, Highlander: The Series, Lord of the Rings - Tolkien, Spiderman - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge Response, Fic-for-All, Gen, Mulitple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshinedown/pseuds/starshinedown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Responses to Twisting the Hellmouth Fic-for-All prompts. Stand-alone Buffy and/or Angel crosses with various fandoms, which each chapter being 50 words longer than the previous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interest: Willow & Rodney

**Author's Note:**

> I own none of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else holding copyright.

**Title: **Interest  
**Pairing:** Willow Rosenberg &amp; Rodney McKay  
**Words:** 150

  
\---

“You--! You can’t just--! It doesn’t _work_ that way!”

“It just did.”

He’s spluttering, and she finds it endearing. She realizes she ought to find his condescending attitude infuriating, his complete lack of belief in the magic she practices grating, but instead she is hard pressed not to giggle at the egotistical scientist’s rants. She finds herself biting her lip in restraint quite a bit in his presence.

She hasn’t been interested in a man since Oz, but she thinks that maybe, just maybe, if they can get past the science-versus-magic arguments, she could be interested in Rodney. He’s adorable, and geeky, and she doesn’t intimidate him (a quality she appreciates now that she’s made a name for herself as a powerful witch on Earth).

First she really must find a way to stop the man from all the loud exclamations and angry hand waving whenever she’s near.


	2. Death is so… passé: Dawn Summers & Amanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When you say 'forever,' do you mean--"
> 
> "Forever. Yes. The end of time, if you can keep your head attached to your neck that long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is the creator &amp; owner of Dawn Summers and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Panzer-Davis Productions is the owner of Amanda and Highlander. I own neither the franchises nor the characters.

**Title: **Death is so… passé.  
**Pairing:** Dawn Summers &amp; Amanda (from Highlander)  
**Words:** 200

\-----

 

“When you say ‘forever,’ do you mean--”

“Forever. Yes. The end of time, if you can keep your head attached to your neck that long.”

“Oh.”

“Is that the only question you have?”

“No. I’m still stuck on ‘forever.’ That’s such…it’s such a long time. I’ll see all my friends die.”

“About that.”

“About _what_? Don’t tell me there is more bad news, Amanda.”

“Living forever is bad news? Hmph.”

“I’ve met enough people who have outlived all they knew; yes, living forever is bad news.”

“Your friends saw you die, heard the doctor pronounce you dead at the hospital. You can’t go back, Dawn.”

“The hell I can’t. I am not leaving my sister, not when I’m perfectly fine.”

“Dawn--”

“No! You don’t understand. My sister, she’ll be ok with it, at least the coming-back-from-the-dead part. Not so much the life of violence I’ll be leading. We have interesting lives. Coming back from the dead is practically passé at this point.”

“Passé? Really? A family of necromancers, are you?”

“No no no. Necromancy is of the bad. Learned that lesson years ago. It’s just that we have trouble staying dead in our circle of friends.”

“…”

“Amanda?”


	3. Smile: Forrest & Mary Jane Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does she know that monsters wait in the dark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretending that the age difference between Forrest and Mary Jane will work for this little ficlet. She's practically immortal, 'cause she's been written about in the comics for decades now, right?

**Title:** Smile  
**Pairing: **Forrest Gates &amp; Mary Jane Watson  
**Words**: 250

\-------

 

When Forrest was a kid, he traveled with his parents to New York City. He remembers looking up, up, at all the tall buildings. At the time, he thought his father's joke about "Forrest in a forest of concrete" quite clever, but when he got older he decided it was a lame play on his name.

They saw the Statue of Liberty, read the names written at Battery Park, saw the city from the Empire State Building, and went to the wonderland of FAO Schwartz.

What Forrest remembers best from that trip, though, isn't tourist traps. Forrest remembers a nothing little diner and his mother's enthusiasm for 'local cuisine.' He remembers a beautiful redheaded waitress, Mary Jane, and that she _smiled_ at him.

Forrest is sure that he remembers this woman from his childhood so well because her smile was genuine. He'd been at an age when he'd realized adults patronized kids (not that he called it that at the time; he only know he didn't like the way grown ups often talked to him). Her honest interaction with him had been the highlight of the trip.

Fifteen years later, when he's under the cover of darkness hunting HSTs in Sunnydale, he finds his mind wandering back to that friendly waitress. Is she still working in that diner? Did she have a good life? Does she know that monsters wait in the dark?

He does this job, he knows, so that people like her never have to find out.


	4. First Meeting: Angel & Hermione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This, he told himself, is why I hate visiting London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Angel is Joss Whedon's and Hermione is J.K. Rowling. I own neither. My apologies if Hermione is a touch OOC. She's a new character for me to explore.

**Title: **First Meeting  
**Pairing:** Angel &amp; Hermione  
**Words:** 300

\--------------

The young woman was standing in front of him, gaping. He could see that she had something, probably many somethings, to say, but just then all the brunnette, bushy-haired woman could manage was to stare at him, mouth open, eyes huge with shock.

Must be a Watcher trainee, he thought. She didn't feel like one of the slayers called by Willow; they had a certain _je ne sais quoi _that marked them for what they were.

She stuttered and restarted several times before spluttering: "You're Angelus! I recognize you from a daguerreotype in _The Scourge: Terror Across the Continent_!"

This, he told himself, is why I hate visiting London. Too many people know who I am.

He made sure his expression was friendly and open before he responded. "I was Angelus, yes. _Was_. Don't they teach that little fact?"

The girl frowned.

For someone who knew of Angelus, once past her initial shock, she was remarkably free of fear. Angel saw that she had a long carved stick in her hand, and that detail stuck in his head. The title she'd referenced wasn't one he'd seen in the Council archives. It sounded like the sort of title used in the wizarding world he'd learned to avoid.

Magic.

Stick in her hand.

Oh, hell. She was one of _those_ witches. Different than Willow, and probably not up on current happenings.

As if to reinforce this thought, the witch raised her wand to point it squarely at her chest. "Vampires don't simply stop being vampires."

He nodded. "True, but with magic, we can be given souls, and therefore consciences. I haven't been on a murdering rampage in over a century."

She remained suspicious. "I'll lower my wand, and you won't kill me?"

"You don't attack me, I don't attack you," he promised.

 


	5. Guest: Giles & Elrond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am sorry, Rupert. I had hoped we could help you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All things Lord of the Rings belong to Tolkien/his estate. All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon. This is set sometime pre-LotR or The Hobbit.

**Title: **Guest  
**Pairing:** Rupert Giles and Elrond (LotR)  
**Words: **350

\------------

  
Elrond walked through the clearing to the opposite end, where their visitor was resting on a rock outcropping. He had his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped loosely between them as he stared off into the forest surrounding Rivendell. Elrond could tell that the man before him did not actually see the graceful trees or vibrant undergrowth; what he was viewing was all in his mind, memories of those he had left behind when he had come to Middle Earth.

He felt for this mortal. In the two years since he’d been brought into the valley--a rough collection of broken bones and bloody flesh--by a patrol returning from the Misty Mountains, he had talked long with Elrond, Celebrían, and Glorfindel about his home and the young people he viewed as his children. Though the place his friend hailed from was dangerous and life there short, he longed to go back to his self-made family and his duty of protecting the innocent against the encroaching darkness. All sympathized with him; they knew well the perpetual battle against shadow.

Not moving or otherwise acknowledging Elrond’s approach, he spoke quietly, his voice resigned and thick with unspoken emotion. “You’ve come to tell me there is no way home.”

“I have.” Elrond placed his hand on the man’s shoulder in silent support. For a long moment, both were quiet.

“I would that I could bring you news of a way home. Mithrandir and Galadriel agree, however. What magic there was that sent you here is not available to us to return you to your home. I am sorry, Rupert. I had hoped we could help you.”

“The Lady Celebrían invited me to dine with you this evening. If I may have some time to gather myself beforehand?”

Elrond smiled gently. “Of course.” His guest would need time to grieve the loss of his home. He hoped, however, that the mortal would adjust and eventually call Rivendell home. Mortal or not, he was a fellow warrior against evil, and he, his wife and his children, viewed him as a friend.


End file.
